


soft whispers of my own demise

by Ren_Kyun



Category: Magic Kaito, 名探偵コナン | Detective Conan | Case Closed
Genre: Angst, Feel my pain through my bastard words, Hanahaki Disease, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Probably ooc, Sick!Shinichi, Some Fluff, i love suffering, kaishin - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,374
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25577284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ren_Kyun/pseuds/Ren_Kyun
Summary: Shinichi almost wanted to laugh. So much for being a rational person. He knew that loving someone involved a certain amount of pain and suffering, but this was a little ridiculous. He wondered if he’ll actually die—covered in a burial of morning glories that were suffocating him from the inside out.Yet he would always choose this kind of flowery, agonizing demise rather than a withered, empty existence.
Relationships: Kudou Shinichi | Edogawa Conan/Kuroba Kaito | Kaitou Kid
Comments: 20
Kudos: 149





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> //drops new fic for a new fandom while neglecting my unfinished works and leaves like that meme of that one guy who does the peace sign and fades away

“Were you working in your mother’s garden?”

It was an innocuous question, especially with the light tone Ran used as she plucked a dark blue petal off his shirt. Neither of the two noticed that it was once wet and sticky, dried from the sunbeams intensified by the cafe window.

“Hmm?” Shinichi didn’t even bother to look up as his best friend straightened up his appearance. Usually he would squirm and whine at Ran’s motherly fussing, but today he was too enveloped in this current case—March 18th, Yamamoto Kimiko had murdered her husband, citing her disease of proof of his infidelity. He stared down at the case files, reading Yamamoto’s statement, and answered distantly, “Oh, no... I wasn’t.”

_Our marriage was crumbling. I didn’t want to believe it. But when I began hacking up peony petals in our bed as he would work later and later into the night—_

“I see.” Ran laughed, leaning over the table to rub out a few wrinkles in Shinichi’s button down. “Must’ve been carried in the wind. I heard the park by the center of town is being reworked! Maybe one of the flower beds were uprooted as you walked by?” She sat back and stared at her tea wistfully. “It’s kinda a shame though; I mean, we’ve been to that park dozens of time as kids, and it holds a lot of memories...”

_Of course, there were other men my eyes would travel to after feeling neglected by him. Yet I still loved him. I knew it in my heart. None of that mattered though; I was the one suffering, because he no longer loved me back—_

“Shinichi.” Ran uttered his name in such a way that instantly made Shinichi look up in attention. The brunette sighed, leaning back in her chair with crossed arms. “Jeez, were you even listening to me?”

They pair had been best friends long enough by now to know not to bullshit each other. Shinichi would probably say he knew that more given the fact that Ran had only increased her karate training after high school. He swallowed hard and began closing the files. “Sorry, Ran. I was just... intrigued by this case.”

Ran blinked and sat up, all her irritation being replaced by newfound curiosity. “Is it a really difficult one?”

“No, nothing like that.” Shinichi waved his hand dismissively. “It actually was pretty cut and dry. We’re almost certain that the initial suspect was the one who did it. She had the motive, and she had no alibi. Megure-keibu is just looking for the weapon at this point.”

“Then why’s it so interesting to you? Is it weird?” Ran chuckled, half lighthearted and half concerned. “I can’t imagine a murder strange enough for Mr. I-see-dead-bodies-at-least-once-a-week.”

“Ha, ha.” Shinichi muttered sarcastically. “Like I ask for all these people to die whenever I get within a kilometer of them.” He picked up his coffee and brought it to his scowling lips.

Ran winced. Shinichi took a long sip, pretending not to notice. “I know.” She spoke softly. There was no need to apologize—both Shinichi and Ran knew that well enough.

Shinichi’s frown only deepened as he put his cup down. He sighed and clarified, “It’s probably because of how straightforward it is.”

“Oh? What do you mean by that?”

“It was a crime of passion... sort of.” Shinichi shrugged, turning to face out the cafe window. He buried his cheek into his fist, leaning onto it nonchalantly. Almost like it didn’t bother him. “It was premeditated, so calling it passion is a bit incorrect. Still, this woman acted off of her emotions, feeling betrayed from her lover.”

Ran nodded, understanding. “Did she catch her husband cheating?”

“Not... exactly.”

“Not exactly?”

Shinichi exhaled, almost annoyed. Not at Ran or her prodding. He never really minded when she pried into his business—even if he pretended he did. Ran must’ve known this too, because she didn’t seem hurt or bothered by Shinichi’s shift in attitude.

“She was throwing up peonies.”

A lull took over the conversation. Shinichi sat quietly, staring out the window absentmindedly as Ran began thinking. She touched a finger to her chin, looking up. Shinichi stayed still in his position all the while.

“How rare.” Ran finally broke the silence. “I’ve only heard of a few people getting Hanahaki Byou. Do you think it drove her insane?”

Shinichi only shrugged in response.

* * *

He was a young and famous detective with a reputation of running into murder after murder and solving them all with relative ease. Many people knew that about Kudo Shinichi. However, to the knowledge of a select few, Shinichi was also a survivor.

In his last year of high school, he had been poisoned by a large and dangerous crime syndicate, The Black Organization, miraculously surviving due to his body’s unique chemical structure. As a side effect though, his body had reverted to that of an elementary-aged boy. He not-so-affectionately referred to this time as the “Conan chapter,” named after the (admittedly silly) alias he used to stay out of the public’s (and the organization’s) eye.

The Conan chapter really fucked Shinichi over. Before that point, he felt like he had it all. _He did have it all._ He was young, wealthy, and brilliant. Sure, he was decently well-known now due to his reputations, both good and bad. However, back then, he was the talk of the town. He was a freaking high school detective with just as much of a success rate as he had currently. And most importantly, he loved it.

He was lined up as a handsome, popular, genius teen somebody. The next big thing. Yet all that paled in comparison to his romantic ventures—or what was supposed to come of them. Mouri Ran and Shinichi were _supposed_ to fall in love and live happily. They both thought it was inevitable. Hell, Ran had admitted it to Shinichi’s face, though it was unbeknownst to her as he was Conan at the time. 

Yet, the longer the two were apart—as the real Shinichi and Ran—the more the two realized that perhaps it wasn’t right for either of them. They say absence makes the heart grow fonder, yet Shinichi was forced to watch as Ran waited longer and longer for him to return... that she began moving on without him. It killed both of them as they came to terms with this new realization. However, Ran was always honest, even to herself.

“You know, Conan-kun,” Ran had whispered one night, after Shinichi’s nineteenth birthday, tears shining in her eyes, “I don’t think I can do it anymore. I still love him. But it’s different. Before I thought I couldn’t be without him. I ached whenever I remembered he isn’t by my side—and in some ways that’s still true. He’s my very best friend... yet...

“When was the last time he called, Conan-kun?” It wasn’t an accusation. She thought for a second. “Two months? Three? I-I... I don’t know. I’ve gotten used to him not being close to me. It doesn’t feel as empty as it did before.

“I thought I would die without him. I thought, if Shinichi didn’t love me as a woman then... I wouldn’t be able to go on. I do want him to come back, because I care for him as his friend, but I don’t think I need _that_ from him anymore.”

For so long Shinichi had wanted a confession from her, but not like that. She said it all so calmly, almost as if this was something she accepted long ago.

It was.

He began crying at that moment. Ran knew. He wondered if she always knew.

She took his tiny body into her arms and silently sobbed with him, mourning the loss of what could’ve been. Shinichi knew that Ran meant every word. He didn’t quite feel the same, yet he accepted it in his heart. 

A few months later, Shinichi, with the help of the FBI, CIA, and Japanese police force, conducted a raid on The Black Organization headquarters. It was a brutal battle, especially straining for Shinichi in his Conan body. He had a brush with death then—at one moment before confronting the boss, he was caught by Gin.

The imposing man seized the boy by his arm, a nasty and dark glare overcast on his face. He pulled him up and off the ground, dangling him like a dying fish on a hook. Shinichi, already injured, out of bullets, out of darts, and out of soccer balls, was helpless against his grasp. He was as vulnerable as any other nine-year-old at that moment, and he hated it. It sent chills down his spine.

“ _How dare you._ ” Gin hissed, brandishing a glock. “You little brat... I remember your face. I thought we disposed of you back at that kiddie park. So smug back then—what happened to all that confidence?” 

A sinister grin stretched across his face. “I promise, I won’t make the same mistake twice. Right here, right now, you’ll die by my hands.”

Gin raised the gun to Shinichi’s temple, finger seconds away from pulling the trigger. Shinichi’s eyes squeezed shut, feeling the cold metal against his head. He apologized to everyone he could think of: Ran, Haibara, Hattori, his mom and dad, the Detective Boys, Agasa... and... He heard the explosion of the hammer, but for some reason, it was so far away.

Shinichi thought he was delusional. The shot sounded so distant. Was this what happened when you died? 

He was promptly pulled out of his thoughts as he felt the tight grip on his arm falter. He fell, landing hard on his left shoulder. A vicious thud beside him forced Shinichi to finally open his eyes. He was met face-to-face again with Gin—only this time, he could see past his silver hair, with a bullet hole resting firmly between his dead eyes.

Shinichi felt like screaming then. Somehow the sight of this broken, bloodied man was more terrifying than the twisted, evil figure that used to haunt his nightmares. He wasn’t sure why.

The rest of the raid was a blur. He remembered Akai Shuichi coming to his aid no more than second after Gin was down. Shinichi could tell as the man helped him up that he was the one who put lead in Gin’s forehead.

The grin that reminded Shinichi far too much of a beast gave it away.

Together, the two of them were the first to enter the boss’s chambers. Karasuma Renya sat calmly at a black, onerous desk with extravagant gothic designs. He was quiet yet clearly angry. Though, he did not put up any fight.

“Rye.” His voice was deep, looks hidden by his meaty hands folded in front of his eyes. Shinichi could make out a crow-like face with neat, slicked back raven hair. “And another.”

If it had been a year earlier, perhaps Shinichi would’ve smirked then, proudly announcing, “Kudo Shinichi. I’m a detective.”

Instead the boy chose to stay quiet besides Akai.

“It’s over, Karasuma.” Akai raised his gun, the same one he used to end Gin’s life minutes before. “Come with us quietly, and we won’t—“

Like everything in that night, it was so sudden. One second Karasuma was sitting silently at his desk—the next, he was faced-down, convulsing and foaming at the mouth.

Both Shinichi and Akai rushed over, desperate to keep this man alive. Yet, it was to no avail. By the time they crossed the large room, Karasuma had stilled. Akai checked for a pulse, cursing freely and loudly when he couldn’t find one.

As a detective, Shinichi should’ve been just as angry as Akai then. Now that the boss is dead, along with most of the higher ups, what was this all for? Who could tell them the goals and admit the crimes of The Black Organization? It should’ve driven him insane.

Yet it didn’t.

Shinichi let out a heavy sigh in that moment, turning away from a frustrated Akai. He felt... he didn’t really know how he felt. It certainly wasn’t good—but it wasn’t worse either. It kind of felt empty, but that couldn’t be right.

His nightmare with shrinking and dark crime organizations was through. Jodie had informed them earlier that the files on APTX 4869 had been recovered and were carefully being transferred to Haibara as soon as possible. Gin, Vodka, Rum, and Karasuma were dead; the rest prosecuted. Vermouth was missing, but Shinichi had a feeling she would slither out of this situation unscathed.

Why did he feel nothing then?

The FBI and CIA did one last sweep of the compound as Shinichi was led out. They agents carefully examined Karasuma’s body and everything else in his office, hoping to find some hint on what the man had done and why he did it all. Shinichi had a sneaking suspicion that they would come up with nothing to show, but he didn’t say anything.

“Hey, Cool Kid.” Jodie had leaned down, hands on her knees. She made sure she was eye level with Shinichi, who was sitting on the back of a police car, wrapped securely in a blanket. It wasn’t cold out. “Are you okay?”

Shinichi didn’t answer. He, instead, decided to close his eyes and focused to steady his breathing.

“I’m sorry we couldn’t get to him in time. I know it’s frustrating not knowing all the answers—but hey! How about this, Cool Kid? You’re so brilliant; how does working with the FBI on this BO case sound? We could really use your insight and—“

“I...” Shinichi finally talked, surprising himself with how defeated his words sounded, “think I’ll have to decline. Sorry. I’m... I’m just really... _tired_ right now.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. In the end, he was satisfied to see Jodie nod. “I understand. It’s been really hard for you, I bet.” She smiled softly and ruffled his hair. “You did good, Cool Kid. Go home and rest.”

The police car had brought him home—really home. Back to the Kudo mansion that he hadn’t lived in for almost three years. His parents were waiting, a five-star dinner ready for his arrival. It almost felt normal. Too normal. Like he just graduated into junior high, and they were celebrating—not like he just assisted in taking down the most secretive and dangerous crime syndicate in the country.

It made Shinichi uncomfortable, so he ate quickly and hurried into the bed that felt almost too unfamiliar to him. He didn’t sleep well that night, remembering the darkened face of Karasuma Renya falling over, leaving Shinichi crushed beneath his gigantic skull.

He woke like he usually did. He was shaky, but he didn’t scream. He was too used to the Mouri’s, sleeping beside Kogoro. If he were to scream there, they would’ve asked questions.

He was free to scream now, but old habits die hard.

Haibara was at his door in the morning, updating him on all her progress. She had worked throughout the night, only showing subtle cracks in her appearance. Shinichi noticed them instantly, though stayed quiet as not to invoke her already fragile temper.

“It should take a week.” She said matter-of-factly at Shinichi’s kitchen table, sipping on black tea that Yukiko so lovingly brewed. “I know you probably want it sooner, but I’d rather get it right with delay than accidentally kill you by rushing.” She closed her eyes, showing off dark circles and bags. “I’m sorry.”

_I’m sorry this happened. I’m sorry you went through so much. I’m sorry I did this._

“Haibara.” Shinichi said firmly, balling his little fists. “It’s okay... it’s okay.”

The girl nodded slowly in response. She sipped her tea and reaffirmed herself. “A week, Kudo-kun. I’ve already warned the children that Edogawa-kun may be heading back to America. You owe it to them to at least say goodbye properly.”

“Of course.” Shinichi paused. “Don’t you have to do the same?”

Haibara looked confused for a moment, but quickly shook her head. “Miyano Shiho is dead. She’s resting with her sister... Her sister who would’ve wanted a girl like Haibara Ai to live on, anew.”

Shinichi smiled a little, the first time in what felt like forever. “That’s good.” He wanted to tell her how happy he was for her, but thinking it over, they both would’ve just found it unnecessary. “A week, huh...”

In a week, Edogawa Conan would “go back to America,” and Shinichi Kudou would return from wherever he’d been hiding. He would be nineteen, never graduated from high school. He would be estranged from his friends, who all slowly lived out their lives without him. He already knew there would be no Ran to return to. Not in the way he had hoped at least.

He found himself okay with that—well, all right, “okay” was a strong word. It pained him greatly, yet he could pretty much see where Ran was coming from. He felt similarly. After spending so much time with her, not as her best friend and potential lover but as a little brother, it almost felt wrong pursuing a relationship.

However, returning was still a frightening concept. While having a going away party with the Detective Boys, Shinichi—no, _Conan_ soaked it all in. It’s true; he hated his life as a six-year-old at first. But, he’s been living this way for three years. There was comfort in Ayumi’s shy and cute flirting, Mitsuhiko’s small observations that were improving, and Genta’s booming input about his appetite. Despite the age difference, they were as much his friends as the likes of Sonoko or Sera.

Of course he was terrified to go back.

But after a week had passed, Shinichi was in Agasa’s house, tentatively sitting on the couch. Haibara, dressed in her lab coat with only a few stray strands of hair sticking out, calmly gave him the real cure to the APTX 4869. 

“It will hurt. Badly.” Haibara in part warned and in part taunted. Shinichi let out a dry chuckle, at least happy to see the restless nights didn’t wear too much on the scientist.

“I’m... This is really happening, isn’t it?” Shinichi questioned, almost cautiously.

Haibara only nodded, turning away. She made her way to her room. “Your clothes are in the bathroom. Please take it in there—I don’t need your suffering to bother me as I try to nap.” Stopping at her bedroom door, she turned back toward a slightly offended Shinichi, with tired eyes. “Good luck, Kudo Shinichi.” And she left him alone.

Shinichi looked to the innocuous, red and white pill in his hand. It looked like every other temporary antidote Haibara made. He almost wanted to call out and ask: will it really make him into Kudou Shinichi for good?

He gripped the pill. It was too late for hesitation or regrets. With one final deep breath as Edogawa Conan, Shinichi swallowed it whole and made his way to the bathroom.

* * *

“Shin-chan~!” His mother practically sang. “Did you eat something yet? Coffee doesn’t count, by the way!”

Shinichi grumbled in response, not only annoyed dealing with his eccentric mother but also having to do it so early in the morning. No, if coffee really didn’t count, Shinichi hadn’t eaten yet. However, he still had fifteen minutes before he had to be out the door, so it wasn’t that big of a deal.

Given the fact that he technically never graduated from high school—never even stepped foot in a university—Shinichi probably should’ve felt more blessed to have been given a job with the Tokyo Police Department—and as a division one detective no less. It was inevitable though, just as the sun rises each day. Feeling grateful was just a little silly in Shinichi’s mind.

For one—and this was not to be arrogant—but what law enforcement agency wouldn’t want Kudou Shinichi as part of their force? It’s true; not many people outside of the country’s special police force knew about his accomplishments on the national level, _i.e. taking down a deep-rooted crime syndicate at the ripe age of nine-slash-nineteen years of age_. But Shinichi also had a near perfect record. With every case he ran into—and he ran into a lot of cases—there was only a handful that he didn’t singlehandedly solve.

And two, the Tokyo Police almost was forced to give Shinichi a position. Neglecting to do so would just create more of a hassle since Shinichi, almost without fail, always managed to run into active or about-to-be-active cases. Everyone knew it. He genuinely didn’t try to. He may have been a mystery geek, but he wasn’t psychotic. Who would actually willingly want to dance around death almost every other day like he did?

Still, even with its inevitability, Shinichi hadn’t thought about how the start of it would go. He pictured himself in the station, huddled over a neat-looking desk, or out on the field investigating an exciting crime. The whole waking up around 6:30am to get ready and then commute in a crowded Tokyo train kinda slipped his mind when he accepted the job.

“Shin-chan.” His mother chastised with a pout. “You woke up late again, didn’t you?”

“Get off my back.” He shot back, only feeling a little guilty about his attitude. “I’ll leave now and pick up something to eat before getting to the station.”

Making his way to the door, Shinichi put on his shoes while simultaneously draining his coffee mug for all it was worth. He winced, wondering why it stung his throat. He was sure that he let it cool for long enough... He carelessly placed it on the hall tree near the entrance, while checking his briefcase for all the active cases he was working on.

Itou Takeshi—accused of murdering his childhood friend after she got his dream job.

Fujioka Nanami—primary suspect in the poisoning of her mother’s long-term boyfriend.

Shima Junpei—a suicide victim, though Megure won’t take his word on it until he had more evidence.

And...

“I gotta go.” Shinichi huffed out, closing the briefcase with a snappy click. He loosened his tie ever so slightly before grabbing the case’s handle. He, for some reason, began feeling choked by his collar.

“Aw, but Shin-chan, I—“

“Bye!” Almost coldly, Shinichi hung your his cellphone, not even giving his mother time to reply. Another tiny pang of guilt wracked his gut, but he couldn’t be too hung up about it.

Sure, his parents were there for like a couple days after he had defeated The Black Organization. Sure, they actually asked him before they left this time if he wanted them to stay longer. And sure, it was, as always, his own choice to stay behind (and it even felt less odd to do so given his age now)... but when had Shinichi asked them to play the doting guardians?

His mother called at least once a week now. At first, Shinichi was secretly touched that they were checking in on him more and—hey—actually being like real, caring parents for once. However, he was a big boy with a job now. The constant badgering was starting to give him a headache.

Shinichi paused at the door. A wave of pain washed over the upper half of his body for a second. Was he actually getting a headache? Right before leaving for work?

“Ugh...” Shinichi stumbled, feeling pin pricks in his temples and cat scratches at his throat. He dropped his briefcase, watching helplessly as the mechanism unlocked, spilling his papers unceremoniously on the floor. A picture of Yamamoto Kimiko, smiling with her arm hooked around her husband, stared up at him.

With clenched teeth, he gripped the surrounding wall and waited for the world to stop spinning. He felt his temperature rise. For a split second, his mind traveled to the _worst_ option—that, _somehow_ , his body was shrinking again. That the cure _didn’t work,_ and Conan, against all odds, would live once again.

It was just lack of sleep, he tried to reason with himself. He was still getting used to waking a whole hour and a half earlier than when he went to school—elementary and high school. Plus, drinking strong coffee almost right after waking up probably was messing with his already tired body—

“Ack!” Shinichi doubled over, the itch in his throat overpowering him. He began coughing uncontrollably, his hand instinctively moving to cover his mouth.

Wet.

Or I could be catching a cold, he thought bitterly, which is a slightly worse option.

However, when his coughing fit was over, he slowly moved his hand away from his face. It was sticky— _gross_ —and it smelled faintly of sweet, wet grass. He made a shaky fist, put off by the fact that he could tell there was something there _that he coughed up._ Shinichi opened his eyes, slowly unraveled his fingers, and nearly groaned at the sight. A single saliva-covered blue petal rested on his palm, almost looking up at him with mock innocence.

Or... it could somehow be the second worst option.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one actually has a few chapters completed already, so I’ll (hopefully) be updating biweekly. Why not sooner? Because I’m a terrible person :) 
> 
> ... and I want to actually finish something that’s more than 3 chapters. If I stay ahead, I think it can work... maybe


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized the format I’m going with may be a little confusing, so I’ll explain it like a dummy instead of actually fixing it lol. First and last part are “current times,” post apotoxin cure. The middle part will almost always be a flashback. 
> 
> Sorry if that isn’t clear, and if it is...... ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

“Shinichi-kun.” Shinichi looked up from his paperwork to see Megure with a concerned look on his face. “Are you feeling alright?”

Shinichi frowned, eyes traveling back down to his work. Yamamoto Kimiko was officially charged and arrested today. All that was left to do was the processing paperwork. 

“I’ve just been a little tired, that’s all.” He waved his hand and changed the subject. “By the way, I’ll have this finished by tomorrow so—“

“Are you sure?” Megure asked cautiously.

“Yeah, I’ve done this hundreds of times already—“

“That’s... not what I meant, Shinichi-kun.” Megure let out a somewhat annoyed breath. He adjusted his hat and continued, “You look pretty pale. Did you eat yet?”

Shinichi nodded. “I stopped by that cafe a few blocks down and got some breakfast.” He felt odd that Megure had sought him out. The older detective was currently pretty busy with a massive arson conspiracy; he hadn’t even left his office until now. Did he really look that unwell? “I promise you, I’m fine.”

Megure frowned. That wasn’t the answer he was hoping for. “I see... How was Ran-kun? I heard you met with her yesterday?”

Shinichi smiled with downcast eyes. He began fidgeting with the pen in his hand. “She’s good. Worried about her dad, but good.”

“Ah, Mouri-kun.” Megure spoke with half humor and half pity. “He’s quit, hasn’t he?“

“Yeah, he just hasn’t had any... luck with cases.” Shinichi only felt a little guilty. If it weren’t for him—Conan—Kogoro would probably never had been successful in the first place. But in that same vein, maybe Kogoro wouldn’t have crashed so hard again if that success didn’t come and go so mysteriously.

Last Shinichi heard from Ran, Kogoro barely left the agency anymore. They were scraping by well enough, but it was no secret that more funds than necessary went to convenience store beers and instant ramen. Ran, not surprisingly, didn’t want to talk about it much with him.

“You gotta feel a little sorry for that guy.” Megure pulled Shinichi out of his thoughts. “He’s a good man. Just... a little lost right now.”

“Yeah.” Shinichi recalled his time in the agency. Sure, Kogoro was a gruff, rude, ill-tempered, idiot of a “detective” who would often violently hit what was—to his knowledge—a six-year-old child... but at the same time he also was someone who, deep down inside, cared. He cared about daughter, he cared about people, and he cared about justice. He was a flawed man who certainly didn’t help Conan in any way, but Shinichi just couldn’t bring himself to resent him. 

Plus, if it weren’t for Kogoro taking him in, he probably have never solved so many cases, bringing gory chapters to a somewhat clean end. Hattori and him may never have met—and if they did, their friendship wouldn’t be nearly as tight-knit. As much trouble as it was, meeting the FBI proved to be a valuable resource, since their agents had saved his skin more times than he could count.

And then... without Kogoro being called to the Beika museum that fateful day, Shinichi mostly likely would have never strayed into Division Two’s affairs...

Shinichi almost gasped. “He’s just in a bit of a rut right now.” He choked out the words, trying to make them sound smooth. “I’m sure that he’ll p-pull himself—“ Shinichi grunted, feeling his throat beginning to itch. He attempted to clear it, but it just came off as a painful croak.

“Shinichi-kun?”

He turned away from his boss and covered his mouth with a tight expression. Don’t cough, he commanded himself. _Don’t cough_. He struggled a few more moments, harshly trying to push down the tickling flowers in his throat.

Shinichi finally coughed roughly as Megure leaned over him. The older man put a soothing hand on his back, rubbing it gently. Shinichi choked, feeling another sticky petal expel from his mouth. He gripped it tight, softly gasping, and made sure to hide it from Megure.

“Are you okay?” He asked after Shinichi calmed. His hand never left his back. In some ways, Shinichi was grateful.

“Y-Yeah.” Shinichi’s fist tightened. He felt a little disgusted when flower-infused saliva drooled from his hand. However, Megure didn’t notice, so he kept his cool. “Maybe I am getting sick. Isn’t there a bug going around?”

“I’m not sure.” Megure’s eyebrows raised, clearly worried for the boy. “Sato-kun thought you looked off. She’s usually pretty intuitive with this type of stuff.” He paused, closing his eyes to think. “We have most of the division here, and a lot of your cases are almost wrapped up. I think you should take the day off.”

Shinichi was afraid he’d say that. He felt his shoulders drop, feeling a little defeated that he couldn’t control himself better. “Okay...” But still. Going home for today was much easier than dealing with the torrent of distress that would come if people found out about his little... condition.

Megure smiled, not noticing the strange way Shinichi leaned back, stuffing his clenched fists in his trouser pockets. “Go home and get some good rest, Shinichi-kun. We’ll be fine here.”

Within a few minutes, Megure made his way back into his office while Shinichi gathered his things. As he walked through the sea of desks, he coughed lightly in an attempted to relieve the persistent tickle in his throat. That little act prompted many of the officers and detectives to offer him concerned smiles, much to Shinichi’s irritation. He ran into Sato and Takagi taking a break near the entrance to division one’s office.

“Ah, Kudo-kun. I thought you looked a little under the weather.” Sato was casually leaning against the receptionist’s desk with a cup of coffee in hand. She winked with a sheepish smile. “I’m sorry for getting Megure-keibu involved, but I was worried you were pushing yourself too hard.”

Shinichi waved his hand and spoke easily, “I understand. I’m not upset at all, don’t worry.” He felt his other hand grip his briefcase as he grinned. “Thank you for your concern.”

“You do work really hard, ever since you’ve joined the station.” Takagi was leaning beside her, but somehow, he didn’t quite look as cool and nonchalant as Sato. “You don’t have to try so hard. Most of the people here respect you a lot.”

“Most of the people?” Sato laughed. “Talk about all of division one, plus even some people in division two, I heard.”

Shinichi chuckled along with her, hoping neither of the detectives noticed how strained it was. “I just like working on cases. They’re kinda fun.” He paused. “Well, don’t get me wrong. _Obviously_ , it’d be better if these cases never happened, but they do... so it feels good to solve them.” He shrugged, feeling his face heat up from his odd declaration. He hoped they didn’t take it that he liked when people died. To his relief, the two older adults nodded along.

“No, I get what you mean. Every case I solve feels as if I’m providing justice and closure for all involved, especially the victims...” Sato supplied, making Shinichi’s explanation seem a lot lamer in comparison. She took a small sip of her coffee before grinning at Shinichi. “Anyway, we don’t want to hold you up. Be safe getting home.”

“Yeah, get some rest, Co—Kudo-kun.” Takagi bit his tongue. Sato looked over at her partner, a little confused. He simply laughed in response, ignoring Shinichi burying his face in his free hand. “W-We’ll see you tomorrow hopefully.”

With a sigh, Shinichi bid them both farewell. As he walked to the elevator, he couldn’t help but give Takagi a bit of a break. Shinichi kept his promise to the older detective and came clean about his identity on within his first week back. He didn’t expect Takagi to get used to his real body, his real mannerisms, and his real name so quickly. It couldn’t be helped—Takagi met him first as the elementary school detective and grew accustomed to that over years of watching and assisting “Conan-kun.”

But hearing that name still twisted in the cruel blade of fate left behind by the chapter that cost him almost everything.

It didn’t take him much longer to leave the station. He thanked whatever power above him that no one else wanted to stop and chat. As he walked through the station’s doors, he was immediately greeted by harsh sunlight.

It was close to noon, meaning that Ran wouldn’t be out of her classes for another hour. Not that he would hang out with her again anytime soon. She could now recognize a Shinichi-centric problem and pick through his lies faster than the poison that melted his bones. So, _pretty fast._

He aimlessly began walking as a cold shiver crawled down his spine. He wasn’t sure if it was from the idea of Ran kicking his ass for keeping another secret or the new secret itself. With another sigh, Shinichi used his free hand to dig around his pocket and pull out the damp petal.

Shinichi raised the floral remnant to the light. It was shriveled and drooping from the base where he held it and ripped on it’s sides. Not surprising: it did travel all the way from his lungs, up his trachea, and out from his mouth. He doubted that much could survive that kind of trip without being... changed.

Despite it all though, Shinichi couldn’t help but see the beauty in it. The petal was fairly large yet still delicate and thin. It was a brilliant, deep blue—almost indigo—with speckles of white emerging from the center, almost shining in the afternoon glow. It was radiant. It was exquisite. It was like a gem...

Almost like...

Shinichi shook his head, pocketing the lone petal again. If he kept it up, the fluttering in his throat would make it a pair. Enough people were already staring at him for dissecting—what looked like to them—a piece of trash. He didn’t need to make it a whole show.

Still, he was beginning to worry. Hanahaki was a merciless disease known for ripping apart the victim from the inside out. It typically begun with chest pains, most of which could be brushed off as indigestion or something else—such as the all too common phenomenon of one’s body shrinking and growing in the matter of minutes.

In reality, the affliction comes from roots of flowers taking hold of the victims lungs. Over the course of a few months, they grow and blossom. However, before too long, the victim’s body begins rejecting the growth. During this process, loose petals are spewed out through a mild cough that only gets worse and worse until full flowers are essentially vomited out. By that point, the victim is in the final stage and won’t survive for much longer. At least... that was what had been reported.

The truth was no one really completely understood Hanahaki. It wasn’t a new disease by any means, but it was rare. In the past 100 years, there had only been 20 or so confirmed diagnoses. With the lack of case studies, scientists were baffled, finding no biological explanation in the ones they did investigate. Nothing physical seemed to trigger it. The only cause came from the victims’ testimonies: it all started around the time they realized they had an unrequited love.

That was ridiculous though! How could an emotional reaction—one that had responses ranging from acceptance to denial for each victim—lead to botanical growth within the body? It simply didn’t line up with reality, yet... people can’t just stage storms of petals from their mouths and flowers in their X-rays.

Shinichi supposed he should’ve been grateful. At least he lived in a time where Hanahaki was no longer classified as a death sentence. It’s true, there has always been a cure, but it was rarer than the illness itself. Out of all the people who came down with the floral condition, only a handful survived it naturally—only a handful of people turned their unrequited crushes into mutual love. Then, _poof_. The roots gradually shrank, decaying and dissolving naturally in the body, leaving the entire ordeal to end in a happily ever after.

The detective almost wanted to cackle as he imagined himself going that route. Good luck! It was impossible for someone like dreary, downer Shinichi to make another person fall for him. Especially this person—a person who was living happily without him.

That led him to his next option. The modern “cure”—to physically open his chest and manually cut the flowers from his lungs. It was an expensive, tortuous process. Yet, by all means, this should’ve been the obvious choice to Shinichi. He’d been through hell and back already. Mentally beaten and physically reconstructed, what was one more procedure to him? However, there was one teensy problem with that. Removing the flowers removes all affection from the host.

Empty.

Shinichi was tired of being _empty_. He felt as if he‘d been empty since his nineteenth birthday—maybe even before then.

It was dangerous, illogical, _stupid_. Yet Shinichi didn’t want to go through with the surgery. The flowers growing in his thorax were killing him, but they were also _something_. He was empty, and they were filling him with something.

Did he want to die? Or course not! The thought was foul, almost blasphemous. Anyone could talk about how ironic it was looking at how often it followed him, but Shinichi hated the thought of death. He hated how close he’d been to it. He hated how everyday now, he was rapidly getting closer and closer.

Choice one was impossible, choice two was unbearable, and choice three was obscene. Then, what was left?

Shinichi stopped in front of the park Ran said was being reworked. He was surprised how far he walked. He must’ve really been lost in his own head. With careful steps, Shinichi walked in through the entrance, straying away from the workers digging up the flower beds near the fences. Well, since they were working on that now, the petal Ran picked off of him definitely wasn’t from this park. Not that he needed more evidence for that genius deduction.

He came to a bench, far away from the park workers and other visitors. Sitting down, Shinichi threw his briefcase beside him and loosened his tie. He must’ve looked like he was just fired. The thought made him laugh quietly to himself as he leaned back. He closed his eyes, bathing in the autumn sun.

He could’ve gone home, but he didn’t want to yet. He hated his house. It had been months since he began sleeping, eating, and just generally living there again, but it still didn’t feel right. He felt like a guest in his own home. He felt like he was still Conan, just on an extended visit to Shinichi-nii-chan’s place.

And anyway, being at the park was nice. Ran was right; this place was special to him. Without even opening his eyes, he could see the open dirt field with the wall where he would practice soccer, the small brick fence beyond it where he (he and his dad, more accurately) had proven Akimoto Koichi’s alibi in one of his earliest cases, and the spot where he headbutted that one little punk in preschool and declared Ran his best friend.

He chuckled to himself again at the memories before stopping and suddenly frowning. The times that he most wanted to recall were the times _before_ he was Conan. He had been to this park a lot solving cases, playing with the Detective Boys, and taking walks with the Mouri family as Conan. Those were good memories as well, however they felt tainted thinking back retroactively.

He felt himself stiffen like a corpse. He wanted to look back at those memories and be happy. He wanted to think of Conan and laugh about it, _oh remember the time I had to repeat grade school again as a man nearing his twenties?_ He wanted to believe the three years that were taken from him meant something in some capacity. They were _something_ —not just a period of stagnation and loss. He really wanted to.

“Hey, sir?... Are you okay?”

A voice right in front of him pulled him out of his meditation. Annoyed at being bothered—even after picking a bench away from everyone—Shinichi peaked one eye open to look at the intrusive figure. He expected some random jogger or a young, concerned dad by youthful tone. Hell, he wouldn’t have even been surprised if it was some spry old man checking in on him—it was only one in the afternoon. What schmuck, besides himself, messed around in a park so early?

However, when he caught the other’s gaze, he nearly gasped. Two lustrous, blue petals stared down at him with curiosity.

“It’s you...” Shinichi breathed, sitting up straighter. There was an itching in his windpipe that nearly marred his words.

 _Kaitou KID_ , he left unsaid.

* * *

It wasn’t Ran. Just as Yamamoto Kimiko intrinsically knew that she still loved her husband, Shinichi intrinsically knew that he _didn’t_ love Ran. Not like that, not anymore.

He thought for sure that the day she let him go he would begin retching up sickly spring blossoms that were no doubt growing in his chest. Yet, it never came. Perhaps, it was the fact that the rejection was, in some parts, mutual. Perhaps the love just wasn’t as strong as he once thought. Or perhaps a little love remained as they both moved on from each other.

It didn’t really matter.

Shinichi, in Conan’s body, made it a habit to come to the roof after the rejection. He had far too many thoughts to sort out with hearing Kogoro’s snores throughout the night. Sure, he could’ve just sat on the couch near the entrance, but that was the scene where it happened. The wounds were too fresh—sitting like he did, where the pair of childhood friends wept together—Shinichi couldn’t quite bring himself there yet.

The first time he went out, it was warm. Summer heat was swirling around in the air, preparing to come out in full force within a few weeks. Shinichi slowly made his way to the railing, leaning his small body against it for support. He looked up at the sky, noticing the gibbous moon.

Hours passed. Shinichi was too absorbed in his own labyrinth of thoughts—running through mazes of _what if_ over and over—to notice. 

What if... what if he told her the truth sooner? What if he brought her to America? What if he gave up everything to be with her? Would any of that even have made a difference?

Ran found him in the morning, asleep with a taut face against the railing in the morning light. She carefully scooped him up, holding him as if he really was just a sleeping child.

He woke up around noon, confused on how he had gotten back into his futon. Harsh sunlight fought to break through Kogoro’s window, the scattered beams only inches from his figure. He rubbed his eyes. His head was pounding. He was still so tired.

He groggily tossed the covers off and stumbled to his feet. He wanted to wash his face. He just wanted to begin his day as he usually would. He desperately wanted to sink back into Conan and forget about the crushing weightlessness in his chest.

When he met with Ran on the way to the bathroom, he instantly understood how he had gotten back inside by the cryptic smile on her face. She understood more, perhaps.

“Good afternoon, Conan-kun.” She said cheerily, like everything was normal.

Shinichi just nodded, responding with a quiet greeting of his own.

“You know...” she spoke quietly with that same calm smile, “I think you should try to get more sleep. At least... _try_.“ Her expression was so soft, looking as if it could shatter at any moment. “I know it’s hard—I’ve been struggling to chase away those thoughts too...”

Shinichi stared at his best friend, realizing in the back of his mind that he never put on his glasses. “Thank you, Ran-nee-chan. I think I need some more... time though. I’m grateful that you care so much, but...” He let silence fill in the blanks.

Her smile only grew—not in a joyful way, but not in a wry sense either. It was indescribable. “I understand... You’re a good... kid, Conan-kun.”

_What’s with this facade? Why do they bother? Why even keep it up?_

“There’s some leftover curry rice in the fridge. I’m meeting with Sonoko today. I’ll be back in time for dinner.” She said, turning away from him.

“Okay.” Shinichi—no, _Conan_ answered. There was a little more pep in his voice. He did his best to copy Ran’s energy. “Have fun!”

The day continued as normal. Shinichi went out and met with the Detective Boys. They played soccer near the elementary school before being swept up in a conspiracy where Genta spotted a couple of shady men throwing away a large bag behind the gym. It turned out the bag held millions of yen stolen earlier from Beika’s bank across town. The Detective Boys followed the men, Shinichi knocked them both out with a well-aimed soccer ball, and they returned the money safe and sound to the police.

So, the usual day in an average nine-year-old’s life.

He came back to the detective agency as the sun set to find Kogoro passed out in front of his TV and katsudon waiting for him in the kitchen. Ran didn’t bother waiting for him as she was already cleaning her dishes in the sink.

“Welcome back.” She greeted. “Dad’s bowl is in the fridge, so don’t worry about saving him anything.” She was scrubbing hard at a particularly stubborn stain. “And I’m sorry about the uneven breading; we didn’t have enough panko.”

Shinichi nodded, saying that it was no big deal. Ran flashed him a kind smile before turning back to the sink with an intense expression. He ate alone silently before excusing himself to Kogoro’s room. Ran kept on smiling. He turned in early, hoping for an easy, thoughtless night.

After tossing and turning with lines of thoughts connecting, starting and stopping endlessly, Shinichi realized such a request was—apparently—asking too much of the universe. He reached under his pillow and checked his cell phone. He cringed as he read the time: 12:28. Hours had passed already, yet he just couldn’t fall asleep.

He groaned, throwing his futon cover off. Kogoro, almost certainly still passed out at his desk at this point, wasn’t a bother anymore, but Shinichi still was feeling suffocated in the tiny bedroom—the tiny agency. He had to get away, just for a minute. He recalled the conversation he had with Ran earlier that day, apologizing silently as he made his way up to the roof again.

It was warmer than the day before. Cloudier too with only a little bit of the growing moon peeking through the grey veil. Shinichi leaned against the railing in the same exact spot as yesterday. He let out a long sigh.

Three years. Three years ago, life was perfect. Life was simple. Life laid out a straightforward plan where childhood friends would go out together, ride a few rollercoasters, and then part as something more. Shinichi never made his mind up to confess to Ran when they went to Tropical Land together—not consciously at least. But he was so sure, if he ever walked her back home, he would’ve poured his heart out to her.

Shinichi let out a spiteful laugh, quietly at first, but then he allowed it get louder and louder as he realized it would simply be carried away in the wind. He was stupid, and Ran was right. He should’ve never stuck his nose around such shady people and shady cases. Jodie has told him that thanks to his help, he had saved hundreds of lives from the cutthroat organization, yet... not without any guilt, Shinichi wished it never happened—that he was just a cheeky, clueless high schooler, and The Black Organization continued their work away from him in the shadows.

However, he supposed he had been selfish for most of his life already. Perhaps he deserved it all. Perhaps he was sixteen years due for a painful lesson, and it all finally caught up with him.

“What a bitter sound.” A cool voice cut through the lingering echo of Shinichi’s howl. Shinichi turned slowly behind him, annoyed that he just _had_ to show monocled face while the kid detective was having a crisis. 

“It’s you.

“Kaitou KID.”  
  


* * *

“Huh? Me?” KID questioned, pointing at himself. He was clearly confused with an expression that screamed, _oh man, maybe this was a mistake, this guy might be crazy._ “Do I know you?”

Yes. Shinichi wanted to say it. Despite the fact that the thief had no idea that the so-called “KID Killer” was right in front of him, Shinichi wanted to tell him that they did know each other. They were closer than he could ever imagine.

But Shinichi also wasn’t _completely_ socially inept, so he coughed lightly in his hand—partly to cut the awkward atmosphere and partly to relieve the growing agitation in his throat—and answered, “Uh, no. I think I... mistook you for someone else.”

Shinichi wanted to slap himself for that excuse. Mistaking KID for another person would make sense if not for the way he was currently dressed. KID was wearing a black suit with a bright red bow tie and matching cape. He sported a dark top hat and a cane in his gloved hands that had a silver clover piece for it’s handle. The entire ensemble screamed “not-your-average-random-performer.” It was a cheesy outfit, but somehow it suited him.

KID raised an eyebrow. He wasn’t buying it. Shinichi wanted to cringe. He couldn’t blame the thief; not even a monkey would accept that excuse. Thankfully, however, KID didn’t push it. “I see. Well, anyway... Sorry to disturb you, but you looked as if you might’ve been a cadaver going into rigor mortis, and I just couldn’t have that.”

“Er—sorry. I was deep in thought.”

“I could tell!” KID flashed a very familiar grin. Shinichi fought the urge to scratch at his own neck. “Y’see, usually this is where I would just say, ‘good day,’ and leave you be. Buuuut... I kinda have to ask you to move.”

Shinichi frowned at the sudden request. “Huh?”

“Sorry!” KID apologetically clapped his hands together and bowed. “What bad luck! Any other day this bench would be all yours, and I would be at the hospital—though that sounds strange when I say it like that.” He straightened himself up, rubbing his chin in mock thought.

This is KID, all right, Shinichi confirmed. Sure, KID usually tried to be a bit more suave and mysterious when he played Phantom Thief, but this kind of lighthearted mood is what he typically demanded and thrived in.

“Anyway to explain this quickly, I usually volunteer at the hospital, but today I’m doing my work here per a very special princess’s request.” KID, in one quick motion, pulled a photo out of thin air (or his sleeves by Shinichi’s keen eyes). Shinichi leaned in closer to see that it pictured a little girl, no older than any of the Detective Boys, smiling weakly in a hospital bed. Kanji scribbled on the bottom read a simple, elegant name: Hana. “She’s going into surgery tomorrow but wanted to go outside before then. The only good time was during my volunteer hours, so—naturally—I happily adjusted and agreed to doing my work out here.”

“Your work?” Shinichi prodded. “You don’t mean simple volunteer work, do you?

“How rude.” KID pouted his lips, waving his hand to make the child’s photo disappear. “I do volunteer my time, and I very much consider it work.”

“But not the normal work of normal volunteers.”

KID smirked, proudly nodding. “What gave it away? The top hat or the cape?” He swished his cape in front of him dramatically. Replace the ensemble with white, and there was a classic Kaitou KID move.

“The cane mostly.” Shinichi replied dryly.

A jubilant laugh rang out of the thief’s lips, sending shockwaves throughout Shinichi’s body. He cleared his throat, fearing the threat of looking like a leaf blower. He could feel petals crawling up his lungs, like spiders scurrying out of their web.

“I do magic.” KID beamed. He twirled his cane around effortlessly before making it vanish in his clapping hands. Shinichi blinked, not able to catch that trick fast enough. Impressive. “In between my classes, I go to the hospital here in Beika and brighten up the childrens’ day—and some of their parents’ as well!”

“I see...” Shinichi crossed his arms. “So, what does that have to do with kicking me off this bench?” Truthfully, he didn’t mind moving for the magician, especially in the interest of sickly children. But he wanted to keep talking with KID... just for a little longer.

“Well, _usually_ I say the bigger the stage, the better for my magic! It gives me a larger audience to impress, and more people get to see something wondrous!” KID sighed, suddenly flopping down beside Shinichi. The detective flinched as their shoulders brushed for an instant. A small cough silently wracked his body, but he managed to merge it within the motion of grabbing his briefcase and shifting to make more room for the magician.

“But Hana-chan—that girl in the photo—is scared of big crowds. I scoped out this place yesterday and found that this exact bench,” KID patted on the seat, exacerbating his point, “is in a secluded enough spot to where Hana-chan could feel comfortable. Plus, there used to be another benefit.”

“Another benefit?” Shinichi echoed. “ _There used to be?_ ”

KID breathed out, blowing a few of his stray bangs to the side. “Yeah, Ahou—er, my friend, Aoko, was gonna come with me today and act as my assistant. I had this neat trick planned where she would levitate around this bench and vanish,” as he explained, KID mimicked the motions with his hands acting as both the bench and his friend, “but she’s with her snooty, posh boyfriend working on a big project she forgot to do. She has to present it in a few hours, and she’s barely started it—talk about irresponsible!”

“Oh.” Shinichi almost let out a toothy grin but composed himself rather quickly.

“Yeah. This is still probably the best spot to do the performance anyway, but it’s such a bummer.” KID sighed, leaning forward and dropping his head in despair. He mumbled to himself, “Stupid Ahoko, stupid Brits.”

Confused about the mention of British people (perhaps her project related to the European country), yet still seeing a stupid, golden opportunity, Shinichi did his best to put on an unimpressed expression. “Well, if that’s the case, then there’s really no need for me to leave this bench.”

“ _Huh?_ ” KID perked up, an incredulous frown taking over his face. It was clear that he didn’t think there was any way that Shinichi would outright refuse to move. “W-What do you mean? Don’t you know that half this park is being worked on—there’s no other private places to go!”

“But I was here first.” Shinichi chirped with a shit-eating grin. “And you obviously don’t need it anymore.”

“Ack, what a heartless man!” KID cried, an actual bit of sadness sneaking into his voice and expression. Shinichi scowled, feeling a surge of guilt mix with the flowers in his chest.

“Calm down; I’m just messing with you.” Shinichi felt bold, reaching over to flick KID in the forehead. The magician whined and rubbed the tiny wound, but thankfully he didn’t look upset anymore. “Were you that disappointed that you couldn’t do the bench trick?”

“A little...” KID readjusted his hat. “I came up with it myself, and it turned out really good! Aoko and I practiced all last night.”

“Is it difficult for her to pull off?”

“Aoko? Oh, no.” KID chuckled, shaking his head. “The practice was just a few adjustments on my end to clean it up and make it look smooth. All Aoko had to do was lay on the bench.”

“That’s good. Then I’ll act as your assistant today.”

“Yeah, that—wait, what?”

Shinichi shrugged. “All I have to do is lay on the bench right? Will my weight mess you up though? I’m sure I’m probably a bit heavier than your friend...”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa— _wait_.” KID stuck his hand out asking Shinichi to pause. “You, the stranger I just met and immediately told to beat it, want to help me?”

“Yeah, what’s the problem?” Shinichi asked, slightly annoyed. For being the oh-so charming Moonlight Magician, KID acted kind of halfwitted in civilian clothing. “I don’t have to do a whole song and dance, do I? Just the one trick?”

KID narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “What’s in it for you? I won’t be compensating you for your help. _I_ don’t even get paid!”

“Huh? Why do you think I’m after something?” Shinichi shot back, even though—technically—yes, he was _after something_. “What if I just wanted to help?”

“You... don’t seem like that kind of person.” KID rubbed his chin in thought, leaning close to Shinichi. He inspected the detective, burning holes into his reddening face. “Don’t get me wrong; I’m not accusing you of being selfish. You just seem like the type of guy who wouldn’t do something unnecessary unless you absolutely had to.”

He hit the nail on the head. Unless asked, if it was something that didn’t immediately interest the detective, Shinichi wouldn’t do it. For any other magician voicing their woes, Shinichi would’ve simply expressed his condolences for the act and walked away, even if they were fishing for his assistance. KID very obviously didn’t get down on his knees and beg him, yet he might as well had with how fast Shinichi jumped up with an offer.

“And you called me rude.” Shinichi leaned away from the intrusive, not-so-gentlemanly thief.

KID, getting the message, pulled back with an easy-going laugh. “Sorry, sorry. It just surprised me. I’m not often wrong with my first impressions.” He paused. “Are you sure you don’t mind? I reeeeeeeally do wanna do that trick! But I’m giving you a chance to back out now!”

Perhaps for the first time in this conversation, Shinichi let out a genuine smile. He felt as if petals were seeping through his lips, but KID was still looking at him happily, so that couldn’t have been the case. 

Stupid, stupid, _stupid_ Shinichi, one part of him screamed. You promised to leave him be. The flowers blooming in your broken body are the proof.

I’m asphyxiating slowly anyway, another countered. I won’t have this kind of moment again. Allow me a final goodbye.

Please.

“If you’ll have me.” Shinichi put out his open hand, ignoring the furious war in his head.

KID smirked, returning the detective’s handshake, “Who is ‘me’ in this case?”

“Kudo Shinichi.” Shinichi surprised himself, speaking with confidence he thought he had long forgotten. “And... what should I call you?”

“My name is Kuroba Kaito. Nice to meet you!”


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So like, hey??? Okay, I'm sorry, I was totally like "Oh, I probably update this in 2 weeks, maybe a month." I'M SORRY. I'M NOT A GOOD, DEDICATED WRITER. I'LL TRY TO BE BETTER BUT OMG NO MORE PROMISES I'M SO SORRY.
> 
> Also the reason this chapter took so long... well, it's embarrassing... but it was legit because I was trying to find a way to realistically write that stupid levitating and disappearing bench trick I wrote myself into. But tbh, I think I kinda did it nicely, idk you judge in this chapter.
> 
> Also, I recommend re-reading the other chapters because I think that the structure of this story might be confusing without having all the context of the other events in your head. Idk tho, I'm not your mom, you can do what you want.

“It’s been so long since Hana has been here.”

Shinichi perked up as he realized one of the ladies had separated herself from the horde of children, parents, and nurses gathering around the bench and instead chose to join him off to the side. She looked at him with a soft smile, wrinkles creasing under her eyes.

“Are you Hana-chan’s mom?” Shinichi asked, though he was already pretty sure in his assumption.

“Yes.” The lady looked just like her daughter. Both were fair-skinned with gentle hazel eyes. Both had shoulder length brown hair—though the woman’s had streaks of grey absent from the child’s. Both wore the same weary expression—though the child’s was surprisingly subdued as she sat quietly in her wheelchair. “Sorry, I’ve just never seen you before. Are you filling in for Nakamori-chan?”

Nakamori-chan...? Ah, of course. Nakamori Aoko. “Oh, yes... I am.” Shinichi answered awkwardly.

“I see.”

A cool breeze swept through the park as children laughed in a circle around KID. He performed a few warm-up tricks, lighting a match on fire. On the count of three, the energetic magician squashed the light with his gloves, replacing it with a blue rose when uncovered. Hana grinned as he threw the single flower up, watching as it exploded into a scattering bouquet of royal blue in the wind.

Shinichi watched silently as her smile failed to reach her sparkling eyes.

“Whenever Nakamori-chan tags along with Kaito-kun, his show always is so much more fun.” Hana’s mother cut sharply through Shinichi’s thoughts. She glanced over, scanning him up and down with furrowed eyebrows. “Have you known Kaito-kun long?”

Shinichi couldn’t blame her. KID had told him that he’d been volunteering at the hospital with Nakamori Aoko for nearly a year. It was obvious that this woman had a lot of trust in the magician to cheer up her daughter. For such an important day—a day that may be Hana’s last—seeing a new, stiff-looking face was probably a little unnerving.

“We’ve worked together in the past.” Shinichi settled for the half-truth and was relieved to see it made Hana’s mother calm. He turned away from her with a small smile as he caught one of KID’s stray blue petals. “Plus, that guy can even make stale rice exciting. There’s no way it won’t be an wondrous performance.”

Hana’s mother chuckled nervously. “Yes, that is true.” There was a stagnant pause where children’s laughter filled in the blank space. Shinichi felt like shuddering. “I’m sorry. I’ve been so rude to you thus far. It’s just... I’ve been on edge with Hana’s surgery coming up.”

“It’s completely understandable.” Shinichi said, eyes downcast—fixed the petal in his hand. “I... I wish her the best of luck.”

“Thank you; that means a lot.” Hana’s mother replied almost mechanically. She allowed another long pause before continuing more naturally, “Do you also go to Beika University?”

Shinichi shook his head. “I, uh,” he stuttered, knowing full well how it sounded to say ‘Oh, I have a job, but I don’t go to university.’ Luckily, he didn’t have to answer.

“Shimizu-san, how are you today?” KID stepped into their terse conversation, lightening the air instantly. Shinichi was only a little flustered seeing how much brighter the young mom got after seeing the internationally wanted thief. “Are you ready to be amazed?”

“Ah, Kaito-kun. Yes, thank you. I can’t tell you how much this means to Hana.”

“I know! That’s why I have some awesome stuff planned for today!” KID grinned, stepping between Shinichi and Shimizu. He lightly grabbed her shoulder and naturally began leading her toward the restless crowd of children. To Shinichi’s surprise, however, KID looked back with a sly wink on his face.

Shinichi blinked stupidly, caught off guard. Did he do that on purpose? He felt a tickle in his throat.

Oh shit.

“Kudo.” Without even giving Shinichi a second to recover, KID called back toward him with an encouraging smile. “I’m just gonna show Shimizu-san where to sit. You should get ready.”

Shinichi nodded and answered hoarsely, “Ah… Yeah,” he cleared his throat, “of course.”

As the Phantom Thief, ever the gentleman, led Shimizu to a nice, grassy spot next to her daughter, Shinichi made his way over to his stage—otherwise known as the random park bench KID was dying to have—and sat down awkwardly on it. A few children, realizing that something was happening by the new stranger’s presence, opted to stare at Shinichi.

The detective thought that being glared down by suspects who all knew you’re silently accusing one of them of being a murderer was bad, but somehow being gawked at by expected children was so much worse. He thought that he’d be used to it due to the fact he was labeled a super genius by a throng of his ex-elementary classmates, yet this was an entirely different experience. There, the children gazed at him with admiration and regard.

Here, these children looked at him expectedly. Like they _wanted_ something from him. Shinichi would, ironically, never really say that he was great with kids. Sure, Conan made it sure that he, in some capacity, could at least _deal_ with them, but he never meshed with the naive, carefree mindset.

Shinichi knew what these children wanted. They wanted entertainment. No, scratch that. They wanted entertainment on the next level. Shinichi knew that these children’s bar for quality was freaking Kaitou KID, so needless to say, he was beginning to get a little nervous.

Kudo Shinichi. Nineteen, almost twenty. Famed detective who took down Japan’s largest underground crime syndicate. Survived a poison with a 99% kill rate. Intimidated by children from a hospital.

“Hey.” Shinichi stiffened a little as he felt a hand lay softly on his shoulder. He looked back at the culprit, who immediately struck him with a dazzling beam. KID leaned down and whispered teasingly, “What’re you so jittery for? I’m the one who has to do all the heavy-lifting.”

Shinichi let out a sardonic grin and replied, “I’ve never been a magician’s assistant before, so excuse me for being a little tense.”  
  
KID chuckled. “With how fast you volunteered, I’d thought this wasn’t your first time.” Before Shinichi could come up with a witty comeback, the magician patted his shoulder soothingly. “Relax. You’ll be fine.”

For some reason, Shinichi believed him. He felt the tension ease from his body. KID flashed him a bright smile, almost as if to say ‘yeah, there you go.’

With that fixed, KID whipped his arms up triumphantly, conjuring smoke and confetti above the two men. “Ladies and gentlemen!” He announced, stepping around the bench in front of Shinichi. “Are you ready for Kuroba Kaito’s incredible magic show?”

Shinichi couldn’t help but smile as he heard the excited cheers from the crowd of children. KID—no, right now—Kuroba was right. All Shinichi had to do was sit back and watch until the magician gave the cue to lay down. There was no way even Shinichi could mess this up…

Right? The growing scratchiness in his throat be damned.

At the very least, Kuroba was staying true to his word and doing the heavy-lifting. He brought it all to this performance: glitter, doves, candy, fire, candy on fire, doves on fire—Shinichi was a little worried about the amount of pyrotechnics that was going into this show. However, it all went off as a hit, with massive applause and shrieks of joy from the children. There was even a small crowd outside of the hospital group forming around the area.

Shinichi began worrying a little for Hana, who he recalled Kuroba saying was scared of crowds. However, he caught a glance of her after a lot of the black smoke cleared and was relieved to see her too enveloped into the show to notice all the people. Another smile grew as he saw her face full of unfiltered joy, happily distracted from whatever stress the time in the hospital gave her.

Finally, though, it was time for the big act. KID—Kuroba gave the cue, signaling for Shinichi to lay down. The detective did so as naturally as possible. “And, here, I’m sure you noticed him before, is my lovely assistant for today! Aoko-chan was busy with school work today, so I went for the next best thing! But then Nakano-san said no, so I went for the next, _next_ best thing!”

Shinichi rolled his eyes at the small jest, glad to see that it got a chuckle out of the crowd. The keen detective couldn’t help notice one fo the nurses giggle more so than usual. It didn’t take long for him to find her name tag and see that she was the “Nakano-san” in question.

Shinichi had to give it to KID; he certainly did know how to work a crowd.

“For my final act today, I will do the impossible. You all will witness this man levitate up, float around this bench, and then disappear from your very sight!” KID—Kuroba stepped beside the bench, giving the crowd full view of Shinichi. The detective could feel his cheeks flush only a little. Kuroba then dramatically waved his hands all around the bench, attempting to prove that there were no strings or wires that would be aiding in the trick.

Shinichi was curious now. He wasn’t sure how this trick would be done if all he had to was lay down. And on a normal park bench? Shinichi was pretty sure that KID—Kuroba hadn’t done anything to this piece of public property, so how would this be down with no wires or machinery?

“Are you ready?” Kuroba asked, and without waiting for an answer, he stuck his arms out theatrically.

At first, nothing happened. Shinichi began to worry if his weight really was a factor and if he really did somehow mess up the simply act of laying down. However, within a few seconds, Shinichi felt himself lift off the bench. He heard gasps from the crowd and rustling as children and adults alike leaned in closer to see the amazing spectacle.

For Shinichi though, it was incredible… -ly painful. There were wires around his limbs. Shinichi had no idea how they got there—if he were to guess, there actually weren’t any wires _until_ Kuroba “checked” for them. The slippery bastard must’ve wrapped them on him as he did his last wave around his body.

But Shinichi did his best to keep a straight face, knowing a pained expression might ruin the illusion. In his head, however, he was miffed. Kuroba could’ve at least _told him_ if he was gonna have to deal with sharp ties around his appendages. What would have happened if Shinichi yelped in pain when the trick began?

Still, it wasn’t all bad. There experience of “floating” was interesting, and seeing all the puzzled faces was, in a way, satisfying. Shinichi could almost understand why KID was such a thespian during his crimes, just to see all the priceless expressions.

Now, however, Shinichi was directly above the bench. He began wondering, how the heck am I gonna disappear? Again, Kuroba had not told him at all how this trick worked. Shinichi just hoped this part wouldn’t be as painful as the first.

Though, none of those thoughts mattered anymore. Shinichi, one moment, was high above the bench, and the next, there was a clap, a banging noise, and he was now on the ground on a cushion, staring back at his own reflection.

He jumped back a little, gathering his bearings as he heard a thunderous applause from almost right in front of him. He looked around, only seeing the top of the bench and Kuroba’s upright feet beside his own, laying down. It took him a second to recover, but once he did, the crux to the trick became very obvious to him.

A mirror placed perfectly under the bench gave the illusion of empty, clear space, when in reality, it would be hiding Shinichi once the wire system dropped him. Kuroba most likely clapped and set off a small flash bang to distract the audience, making Shinichi’s “disappearance” look more seamless. It was clever, but Shinichi was still wondering, why couldn’t Kuroba have given him a heads up? It would’ve been nice to have the warning.

However, Shinichi was mostly just grateful, at this point, that Kuroba set up a soft landing for him.

“Thank you! Thank you!” Shinichi looked over at Kuroba who was bowing at the continuous clapping. He couldn’t help but roll his eyes a little with a goofy grin as the magician soaked in his praises. “And I’d like for you all to give another round for my lovely assistant!”

Shinichi stiffened as Kuroba turned to him. Did he want him to walk out? How would he do that and not give away the mirror trick? It seemed though, that Kuroba had already planned for that. The magician reached down and, with a little effort, picked a blushing Shinichi up bridal style, giving the illusion of pulling the detective out of no where.

The crowd went wild, clamoring and hollering to show their amazement. For Shinichi though, he could only focus on one thing. Kuroba—Kaitou KID, was mere inches from his face, beaming beautifully, like the grandest constellations. The flustered detective could see his long eyelashes and plush lips. He could feel the other’s warmth as he held him close. He could only focus on that—that is, until the pulsing in his throat started.

 _No! Not now, not now,_ Shinichi begged his body.

However, it was far too late. Kuroba’s smile dropped as he felt Shinichi in his arms convulse. Shinichi smacked his hands against his mouth, shaking, doing his best to not absolutely ruin this moment. He was a little too late, as the cheering from the crowd died down. Shinichi didn’t even have to look. He knew that all eyes were on him now.

It was a cough. Shinichi felt his mouth fill fully with petals. He felt tears sting his eyes, as his mind raced. A mouth full of corolla, and no mirrors to hide this. Luckily though, a strong wind picked up, and Shinichi’s quick mind went to work. He knew he had only one chance to get this right.

“Kudo…?” Kuroba began.

Shinichi didn’t let him finish. He hunched over, curling into himself in order to spit the storm of petals in his hands and cradled by his chest, before tossing the makeshift bouquet up into the breezy air. To Shinichi’s utter relief, the petals all separated and danced in the sky, looking like a bunch of beautiful lapis lazuli jewels.

“Ta-da!” Shinichi huffed, arms still outstretched, face burning red.

The crowd was stunned at this outburst from the seemingly aloof assistant. Shinichi held his pose, not really knowing what else to do. To his absolute relief, someone started clapping. He didn’t care who it was at first, but seeing that it was Shimizu, Shinichi’s heart did a little flip. What a wonderful woman.

Soon the rest of the crowd joined in for a moderate applause. It was nothing compared to KID—Kuroba’s, but Shinichi was just glad that it didn’t turn into a disaster.

Without knowing what else to do, Shinichi untangled himself from Kuroba’s hold and came back to the ground, standing on his own two feet. Kuroba looked at him stunned for a second before shaking his head, putting on his poker face, and turning back to the crowd. “That was some impressive magic from my assistant, wouldn’t you say?”

The crowd all nodded, smiles and laughs plastered on all the individuals’ faces. Shinichi took this moment to bow to the people and slip away. Kuroba looked like he wanted to stop him, but he was stopped by the horde of children who began surrounding him, chirping about how he did this or that.

Shinichi slipped back to the side, away from the growing circle surrounding Kuroba. Well, he _did_ want to do one last thing before saying his farewells to Kaitou KID; an impromptu magic trick with a deadly disease wasn’t what he had in mind, but beggars can’t be choosers.

“Do you practice magic as well—“

“Ah!” Shinichi jumped, startled. He was not expecting anyone to seek him out.

Shimizu was standing beside him, hand on her chest, startled as well. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.”

“No, it’s fine.” Shinichi sighed, a small smile appearing on his face. “I just didn’t think anyone would care to talk to the assistant when the star is over there.”  
  
That finally earned Shinichi a positive reaction from Shimizu as she let out a genuine giggle. “Ah, I chat with Kaito-kun all the time. I was surprised to see you do a magic trick. No offense, but it just doesn’t seem…”  
  
“Like me?” Shinichi supplemented. Shimizu nodded, unabashedly. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess I was just… overtaken with the atmosphere?” Shinichi’s statement sounded more like a question than he intended it to.

Shimizu simply chuckled again. “I see. Well, it was a wonderful trick.” She turned to Shinichi with a twinkle in her eyes. “Kaito-kun always gets annoyed when I ask this, but I might as well try with you. How’d you do it?”  
  
There was no accusation within her voice, but Shinichi felt a cold panic as if she were claiming he robbed her home. The detective shoved his hands into his trouser pockets, pondering if he should just say the cliche “a magician never reveals his secrets” when his hand brushed against something soft.

“Oh.” Shinichi pulled out the blue rose petal that he caught from Kuroba’s warm up trick.

“Ah, I see!” Shimizu exclaimed excitedly. “You used the petals from Kaito-kun’s bouquet. You kept some in your pocket and waited until the wind picked up to throw them. That’s very clever!”

Shinichi laughed oddly. She was… partly right. Where he got and stored the petals was incorrect, but Shinichi didn’t really want to correct her on that. Instead, he simply nodded along.

“You two seem to be getting along well now.” Kuroba, wheeling Hana over, once again cut into Shinichi’s and Shimizu’s conversation. However, this time, Shinichi didn’t need to feel thankful. “This princess here is getting restless. She was telling me that a certain someone promised her ice cream after my show?”

“At Mori-san's!” Hana cut in, kicking her legs eagerly. “You promised!” She turned from her mother to Shinichi, suddenly looking a little embarrassed. Shinichi blinked, not really knowing how to react. “Um…” Hana mumbled shyly, “I, um, thought that your magic was really cool also.”  
  
Shinichi frowned and glanced toward Kuroba. “You told her to say that didn’t you.”  
  
Kuroba held his hands up in innocence, “Nope. She told me to bring her over here so she could say it herself—“  
  
“Ah, Kaito-nii!” Hana puffed her reddening cheeks and glared back at Kuroba. She glimpsed back at Shinichi before taking an interest in her feet. “Shut up…”

Shimizu laughed, strolling over to take Kuroba’s place beside Hana. “Alright ‘Princess,’ we can make our way to Mori’s now. I can see you’re getting cranky.”  
  
“Mom!” Hana blushed again, pouting her lips. She turned to Shinichi and Kuroba, who had taken Shimizu’s spot beside his assistant. “Bye-bye, Kaito-nii, Mr. Assistant. Thank you for the magic show!”

“Bye, Hana-chan!” Kuroba said enthusiastically. Good luck, Shinichi noticed, was left unsaid. Shinichi opted to wave, which made the poor girl’s cheeks redden further before she turned to face forward. “Haha, I think she has a crush on you.”

“Maybe?” Shinichi shrugged. “Or she was just as embarrassed about my little trick as I was.”

Kuroba let out a bright laugh, “Nah, that was great! Sorry I didn’t say so before, it just caught me off guard.”

“You know what caught me off guard?” Shinichi felt his sassiness bubble up. There was nothing he could do to stop it. “Having wires cut into my arms and legs before being dropped onto the ground with no warning.”  
  
“Hey, I laid out a mat for you.”

“I guess.” Shinichi huffed. “I just don’t see why you didn’t tell me.”  
  
“I didn’t want you to brace yourself.” Kuroba admitted, looking a little sheepish. “When Aoko and I practiced this trick, she always stiffens before the wires pull. It looks totally off then. I rigged the wires perfectly to where the tightness doesn’t surprise the person, yet she always gives it away by bracing herself.”  
  
Shinichi hummed, unsatisfied.

“I’m sorry,” Kuroba stepped in front of Shinichi. “I should’ve told you. I let my pride as a magician get to my head.” Kuroba then took off his top hat and knelt in front of Shinichi, making his windpipe tighten. “Forgive me?” Kuroba said with a little coyness.

Shinichi felt himself flush. “Okay, okay. It’s fine. You can get up now.”

Kuroba chortled, pulling himself up. He faced Shinichi with a suave expression before holding out his fist. “You were a big help today, seriously. Thank you, Kudo.” Without any theatrics, a blue rose appeared in his hand. He offered it to Shinichi with a kind smile.

Shinichi’s face was probably as red as a tomato. He turned away indignantly and snatched the rose, mumbling a quiet thank you.

“I know it’s kind of forward of me to ask, and you’re probably a busy guy, but I was wondering if you wanna come to the hospital and help me out again sometime? I go there on Wednesday evenings with my friend, Aoko, usually.” Kuroba rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly looking a little flustered. It only served to further embarrass Shinichi. “You can teach me how to do that cool trick from before!”

Shinichi stiffened suddenly, clutching the rose. Kuroba took note of this, but didn’t say anything, waiting for Shinichi’s response.

Wasn’t this… _supposed_ to be it? The final goodbye before Shinichi’s garden finished blooming?

Wasn’t this selfish?

_Shouldn’t the answer be no?_

“I… have to check my schedule.”

* * *

Shinichi glared, staring down the magician in white. He balled his tiny fists and announced flatly, “It’s you. Kaitou Kid.”

KID smirked, standing tall on the other end of the roof. His ivory cape blew in the not-quite-summer breeze. “Isn’t it past your bedtime? I was just planning on slipping in and out to give you a personal heist note.” White gloves deftly flicked up, revealing a small card between two long fingers. A familiar doodle in its corner was just recognizable to Shinichi, even with how far he was from the thief.

“I’ve been bored, Tantei-kun. You’ve been ditching my carefully crafted heists just so you can play with dead bodies. It shocks and offends me.”

“I don’t ‘play’ with dead bodies.” Shinichi countered defensively. He stuck his hands in the pockets of his pajama bottoms indignantly, only feeling a little embarrassed at his childish appearance. “And your heists, as artful as you are with them, are not my top priority.”

“Oh?” KID grinned, tipping his head back slightly. Shinichi could see his striking blue eyes—eyes that the detective was shocked weren’t hidden better. It irritated him to no end.

“Yeah, so run along. I’m busy.” Shinichi turned away. He was a little satisfied to hear a distressed peep come out of the KID as he regarded the magician coldly. KID was silent for a second, but Shinichi could somehow sense that he was coming closer. “I said to beat it.”

“Ah, Tantei-kun—you’re so frigid, even in this spring heatwave.” In a few seconds, KID was by his side, copying Shinichi by leaning against the railing. Without his glasses, watch, or shoes, KID knew Shinichi wasn’t much of a threat at the moment. The two comfortably stood together as the night continued on. “Why are you out here though?”

Shinichi glared, but it was with less intensity than before. “None of your business, KID.”

“I think it is.” KID shot back with a reckless smile. “My favorite critic is out on a rooftop, so late at night, looking out toward the city with a pitiful expression. A penny for your thoughts? How about a few dozen?”

KID opened his cape dramatically, grinning as copper pennies poured out from his arms. Shinichi was dumbfounded—not at the trick itself, but just the fact that KID has _so many_ props prepared for the absolute _stupidest_ reasons. Who the hell gets foreign currency just to make a throwaway pun? _How did he know he was gonna even use that pun tonight?_

“Idiot.” Shinichi frowned, looking forward once again. KID mumbled quietly to himself about how his efforts were wasted on that kind of reaction. Shinichi glanced at the magician, eyes narrowed at his pitiable pout. His poker face—or at least, one of them. “I’m just... out here to think.”

“Hmm?” KID leaned on the railing again, relaxing. “Why tonight? Isn’t the Mouri detective out cold at his desk?”

“I guess, it’s just that—“ Shinichi paused before giving KID an accusatory look. “How did you know Oji-san was passed out?”

KID didn’t look even the slightest bit fazed. He snickered, “I told you. I was planning on giving you a note tonight. If someone else spotted me, it would be quite troublesome, wouldn’t it?”

“You’re awful.”

“As a criminal, I think I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Shinichi huffed, doing his best to ignore KID’s cheeky grin. He set his gaze on the city in front of him. His trained ears picked up on subtle sounds of cars rolling in the night, stray cats pattering around the agency, and the acute wind that dominated the night.

“Seriously, Tantei-kun. What’s on your mind?” KID had his elbow on the railing, supporting his chin. He looked down at the mini-detective with a piercing eye. “I’ve never seen such a melancholic expression on an eight-year-old before.”

“Nine.”

“Huh?”

Shinichi turned to KID with a bored expression. “Apparently I turned nine two days ago.”

“Apparently?” KID repeated, confused.

Shinichi almost laughed. “Yeah, I barely ever remember my birthday. Ran has to remind me every year.”

“How do you manage that, Tantei-kun?

“I dunno.”

“... You changed the subject again.”

“Did I?” Shinichi asked, closing his eyes. He hung off the railing, in both one of the most comfortable and uncomfortable positions: right on the line between solid ground and open air. “I really didn’t mean to. You’re just so easy to talk to sometimes. I feel like you get me—and I don’t like that.”

KID raised an eyebrow. “Oh? You don’t?”

Shinichi shook his head. “I don’t. I don’t like when people get close to me anymore... Even just telling someone that little factoid about me—that I don’t like talking about myself—makes me stressed. What an oxymoron. There’s just so much going on around me that I can’t control...” With a small gasp, Shinichi let himself fall back onto the building. When his feet hit the stable concrete roof, he almost felt as if he made a mistake. “Then there’s you.”

Shinichi waited for KID to respond before looking up at him. He was somewhat surprised to see that the thief had his eyes locked onto his face, soaking in every word he said. He was unusually quiet as he listened, waiting for Shinichi to continue on his own. It was unnerving... but also refreshing.

Shinichi swallowed hard and continued, “You come and go as you please. You don’t have a real identity when you put on your hat and monocle. You’re the same as me—you’re something different than what you truly are right now.” He paused. “I don’t like opening up to you, but you don’t exist, so there’s really no harm.”

“Kaitou KID doesn’t exist... and whoever’s hiding within him shouldn’t ever cross into whatever mess both you and I are in. So there’s a bit of comfort in that, I suppose.”

KID leaned forward, letting out a long whistle. “Wow. That’s pretty heavy, Tantei-kun. You sure you turned nine, not nineteen?”

Shinichi let out a snort, shaking his head slightly. If only he knew the half of it.

“So, anyway, are you coming to my next heist?” KID asked suddenly, leaning into the tiny detective while waving the laminated (he actually laminated it) card stock riddle inches from Shinichi’s ear. The request was drenched in layers of mock coyness, almost as if KID were playing the part of a desperate damsel trying to get the distracted hero to notice her.

Shinichi frowned, swatting the riddle away. He felt goosebumps run down his arms at KID’s theatrics. “You damn thief. I just poured my heart out to you, and you’re asking me to come to your crime scene like it’s our senior trip.”

“Is that a no?”

Shinichi groaned and shook his head, “Why do you even want me there? When other kleptos commit theft they usually hope for fewer detectives at the scene.”

A laugh rang out, jubilant and bright. It almost shocked Shinichi with how genuine it felt. But then, of course, KID just had to ruin the moment as he gave Shinichi a degrading pat on his head. Like he was actually some silly child who just asked one of those dumb questions that teachers promise don’t exist.

“What?” Shinichi snapped after a solid ten seconds of straight ridicule from the giggly thief.

“Nothing, sorry.” KID recovered, leaning back on the rail. He looked out toward the city with a gleeful expression. Shinichi stared him with owlish eyes. His so-called poker face? “It is pretty crazy though…”

Shinichi gave him a beat to continue before glaring at the wistful magician. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“I know.”

“Huh?”

“You’ve been pretty down lately, haven’t you Tantei-kun? What with all the... events happening in your life.” KID’s smile dropped as he glanced down at Shinichi, eyes glazed over. “I don’t really know what’s going on with you, though it seems a tad more… exciting… than the average elementary schooler’s experience.”

Again, Shinichi thought, you don’t know the half of it.

“Perhaps this is arrogant of me, but I like to think of my heists as a sort of show. Like one you’d take kids to in order to cheer them up, or maybe even one you’d take someone on a date to dazzle them.” The Phantom Thief grinned again, gleaming in the moonlight.

“That is pretty arrogant.” Shinichi mumbled, knowing full well that, deep down, he agreed completely with what KID was saying.

Whether KID knew that or not, he continued with an eye roll at Shinichi’s attitude, “Well, maybe you’re that rotten, snarky, little child that I want to bring to the show in order to cheer up. Ever think about that?”

No, in all honesty. Shinichi was a little taken aback by KID’s proclamation. He always knew that the initial reason he was invited to the heists was to give the slightly masochistic Phantom Thief a challenge that the Division Two Taskforce just couldn’t provide. He never really considered that KID might have gone out of his way to include him because he _knew_ Shinichi found it fun as well.

“You’re lying.” Shinichi responded without thinking. His own answer surprised him more than KID’s.

However, KID simply smiled, almost as if he expected such a petulant answer. He kneeled down gracefully and met Shinichi’s eyes. Cold, somber blue met warm, striking indigo as they squinted with sincerity that Shinichi didn’t think was possible from a conman. “You can believe that, Tantei-kun, but I assure you I mean every word I say to you.”

Mischief returned to his irises as he added, “Unless we’re dueling it out at a heist.”

Shinichi squirmed under KID’s gaze. He shifted and turned his head away, afraid to meet the magician’s eyes again. “Alright, I get it. You don’t have to stare me down like I’m some dog you have to train.” He crossed his arms, just as one final act of stubbornness.

“Good.” KID cackled and patted Shinichi on the shoulder. Shinichi might have blushed from embarrassment. “I’m glad we got this sorted out.” KID then stood up quickly, checking his wrist. “Woah, it’s getting pretty late, and tonight’s a school night. You need to get to bed soon, young man.”  
  
Shinichi scowled. He didn’t let himself show it, but he was relieved to that their old, distant rapport had replaced whatever uncomfortable intimacy was forged for a few minutes there. “Can you stop treating me like I’m a baby? It’s honestly humiliating.” Though, the childish treatment was getting kind of old.  
  
KID didn’t answer. Instead he just continued to stare at his wrist.

Shinichi’s frown grew, as he felt he was being ignored. He leaned over to try to see what the thief was staring so intently at. An incredulous look took over his face as he realized— “Hey, you don’t even have a watch on…!” —before he felt an overwhelming drowsiness overtake his body. “Wh…a…?”

“Shhh…” KID cooed, catching the tiny detective before he hit the ground. Shinichi’s world was blurring, but he could catch a shit-eaten grin on the thief’s face before it went dark. “This is a sleeping gas derived from natural ingredients. I know how Mouri-chan fawns over your health.”  
  
“Goodnight, Tantei-san. I’m sorry to cut this meeting short, though I hope I’ll see you at the next full moon.”

* * *

“Listen, Haibara—“

“Idiot.” The tiny scientist bit back, typing away on her computer. “How long have you been showing symptoms? A week?”

“I don’t know. You told me—“ Shinichi flinched as Haibara glared back at him, almost daring him to actually try and pin any blame on her, “ _I thought_ the aches in my chest were symptoms from the Apotoxin cure. I’ve been feeling those for a while now, but I started coughing up petals since I met with Ran last Friday.”

“Last Friday?” Haibara echoed. “Idiot.”

Shinichi leaned forward on the couch he was sitting on to give the little scientist an irritated frown. “Can you actually help me instead of just calling me an idiot over and over again?”

“What do you want me to do?”

“You’re a biologist. Don’t you have some miracle cure?” Shinichi knew the words out of his mouth were dumb already, but the exasperated look Haibara shot him confirmed it. “Right...”

“There is no miracle cure for Hanahaki—at least not the miracle you’re hoping for. And even if there was, why, pray tell, would you ever think I, a scientist who was captive and under strict orders for a very specific means, would have it?”

Shinichi almost opened his mouth, but she gave him no room to even try to humor her rhetorical question. “There are three ways the disease ends.” Haibara swiveled around in her chair to properly face her reckless friend. “You already know what they are, I have no doubt.”

Shinichi nodded, leaning back again. The three impossible choices. He almost wanted to laugh. This situation reminded him so much of the time he was in the hospital, and Haibara pretended to threaten to kill him and everyone he loved because of the idea of The Black Organization finding out Sherry still lived, forcing Haibara to show him the gruesome reality in which they lived in. Sure, it was damn near traumatizing at that moment, and now... it was still traumatizing, but he could at least find some humor in the situation.

He was given three seemingly impossible choices at that time as well. The only difference was that, despite the insanity of it all, there really was only one correct route—and it was fairly easy to go along with. Now though, the rationally “correct” choice is the one he’s most resistant to.

“Who is it?” Haibara butted into his not-so-delightful trip down memory lane, asking in a way that held muted intrigue.

“What?”

“Who,” She made two quotation marks with her hands, “ _gave_ you it? Or, to put it so a gerbil could understand, who is rejecting the great detective Kudo Shinichi’s love?”

Shinichi glared weakly at the evil little girl. He wracked his mind, weighing the options of telling Haibara his true feelings, lying straight to her face, or just staying stubbornly silent. The last option sounded like the best in his opinion.

“Is it the girl from the detective agency? The timeline almost matches up.”

“No.” Shinichi shot back without thinking. “No, it’s not her.”

“You sound so sure.”

"That’s because I am.” Shinichi admitted.

Haibara made a humming sound. She stared right through Shinichi as he squirmed in the couch, piercing blue eyes seeing all corners of his heart. She may not have been a “people person,” but she was damn good at reading them.

“I see,” was the last thing she said on that matter. She swiveled around again suddenly, hands hovering over her keyboard. “What will you do, I wonder. I would like to think I know you well enough at this point, Kudo-kun, but you never cease to amaze me.”

Shinichi frowned. “As my primary physician, what would you recommend?”

“Squash it.” Haibara replied without thought. She typed furiously into her computer. Shinichi could barely make out his photo in the right upper corner of the document she was editing. It was an older shot of the high school detective actually in high school, posing triumphantly toward the camera—the same shot Shinichi swore he made Haibara delete. “Risking your life for such a trivial thing... It’s foolish.”

“But the surgery—“

“Rids you of everything.” Haibara finished for him. She paused. “I know.”

A lull took over the conversation, occasional taps from the keyboard filling in the empty space. Shinichi slumped back into the couch. Unfortunately for him, one of his fears were confirmed. He had hoped Haibara would give him some insight—and she certainly did. He just wished that insight would’ve been more idealistic and optimistic than realistic.

What was he expecting?

“Have you called your parents?” Haibara asked abruptly.

“My parents?” Shinichi chuckled crossly. “I didn’t call them when a magic drug forced me back into first grade with black crows pecking at my feet.”

“Please take this seriously.”

“I am being serious. I didn’t call them.” Shinichi, with a dull look in his eyes, took out the rose KID—Kuroba gave him. He twirled the stem in his fingers, watching the blue petals dance gracefully, almost in a daze. “I’ll figure it out myself.”

“My, my, I thought you weren’t a child anymore, Kudo-kun.”

“I thought so too.”

Haibara paused and turned to face Shinichi again, perhaps hearing a little too much weariness in his voice. “They’d want to know. They _do_ really care about you. I agree they show it in... less than ideal ways—“

“Haibara, when I first shrunk and was all alone, the two of them tricked me into thinking I was being captured by The Organization and was about to be executed. My own father pointed a gun at me. Forgive me if I don’t wanna deal with their theatrics while I’m hunched over the toilet filled with violets from my guts.”

“While I agree they’re... eccentric,” Haibara glared and shot back, “the only one who’s being theatrical about this is you. I don’t know if you realize this, Kudo-kun, but you tend to have a thick skull. Perhaps the reason so many people you love tend to point weapons at you to simulate real danger is because you’re often too prideful and arrogant to see when you’re in over your head. Call. Your. Parents.”

With one last huff, Haibara turned back again to the computer, her crass attitude flaring up again at her patient’s obstinance. She slowly and obviously typed out the letters I-D-I-O-T in capital letters below Shinichi’s picture, making especially sure that the pictured person could see it.

The detective sighed, letting himself fall over to lay horizontally on the couch. Even he could take that very blunt, admittedly hurtful hint. He would do it, but let it be known that he wasn’t wholly comfortable with the idea of reaching out to his parents at all.

Even when he was fourteen, left on his own for the first time, dueling with a kitchen fire from his ineptitude with cooking (where he told himself for the first time, “hey, maybe you don’t have to be amazing at _everything”_ ), he never once thought to call them. Because he was Kudo Shinichi, solving the occasional murder without Megure-keibu’s help. Sure, he can’t cook a pancake, but that’s not something Kudo Shinichi needs to know how to do.

He was a boastful, prodigy detective ready to take on the whole world. Nothing could touch him, he thought. So maybe… when something did, in fact, not only touch him, but have him brush fingers with death… maybe he could figure it out himself. Because he was Kudo Shinichi. That _was_ something he was supposed to be able to do. Fix problems himself. Solve things himself. Do it all… himself.

Find the Crows, get the cure, regain his body, all by himself. Sure, Haibara and Agasa are supporting him from the side, but he’s the one doing the field work. He’s the one out there. He would be the one to face the Organization.

He could do it. He really thought he could save himself, by himself. He thought he could shoulder the burden, shoulder the _loneliness_. Not once did he ever think to admit to anyone, not Ran, not Agasa, not Haibara, not his parents— _nobody—_ that Kudo Shinichi was struggling.

And no one ever questioned if Kudo Shinichi was struggling.

Because no one _needed_ to question it.

That is, until that night on the rooftop.

“Morn...” Haibara mumbled, thankfully dragging Shinichi from his spiraling thoughts before triggering another coughing fit.

“Huh?”

The tiny scientist, with a forlorn expression the detective couldn’t see, repeated, “Morning glories. You’re not coughing up violets; you’re coughing up morning glories.”

“I see.” Shinichi answered, not particularly caring which weed was tearing him apart from the inside out, instead choosing to stare at the impossible flora in his hand. “I was never great with flowers.”

“Well, it’s quite a beautiful plant.” Haibara paused and sighed. “I know that’s probably not what you want to hear, but it’s true. At least the great Kudo Shinichi is going out with in style.”

“Ha ha, very funny.” Shinichi said dryly.

Silence overtook the room as the two friends found themselves against a wall. What more could they say to each other? Haibara snuck another glance at the sullen detective, knowing that some part of her wanted to provide him with a little comfort. But that part of her, the one that could potentially soothe with silly, kind lies, died along with the last of her family. She watched as he absentmindedly twisted that stem in his hand, over and over again.

“At this point, I must ask. Why are you holding that rose like your life depends on it?”

Shinichi stopped twirling the flower, staring at the curves of the petals. The blue wasn’t quite as brilliant as the petals he was hacking up, and, of course, they simply couldn’t even compare to what they’re trying to imitate so poorly. Yet, still. Right now it was all he had. “Because it does.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, keep low expectations of me, I'm really dumb and bad


End file.
